


Dirty Laundry

by Popato123



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: F/M, Gen, I used the characters and changed the universe a little, Rebornica Verse, UPDATES ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE OH MY GOD, rebornica
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popato123/pseuds/Popato123
Summary: Skinny was having a bad morning, and her clothes were in bad shape. This guy's clothes were worse.Inspired by a tumblr prompt





	1. That color is going to put a kink in our relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaay Popato here. This is gonna be my first fanfic- but hey, thanks for giving it a try! It's probably not going to get as many hits as a "real" reader insert, but *shrugs* oh well. Here ya go! 
> 
> I'll try to update as often as possible, but I want to give you substantial chapters, so please be patient.

There is a simple equation for waking up in the morning. Take one tired Skinny, add one cup of instant coffee, and you get a relatively prepared individual for the rest of the day. 

 

On the other hand, throw in a stray elbow and an overturned mug and you get ruined clothes and a bad mood. This was what happened Monday morning while Skinny was late for work, so it was natural to find her at the local laundromat later that day, shoving clothes in a washer.

 

…

 

Skinny fed the washing machine a few dollars, then sat back to watch the swirl of colors spinning around inside it. Letting out a rueful sigh, she grumbled under her breath, “Another shirt ruined… me and my clumsy mess of a body…”

 

“Heh, tell me about it.

 

A man dressed in a security guard uniform limped up next to her, carrying a white basket piled high with clothes. He had perched a bottle of bleach on top of the entire thing, and set it down with a wince.

 

“Uh… you ok, man?”

 

He casually waved off her concern with a bandaged hand. “Don’t worry about it, nothing I’m not used to.”

 

Skinny kept giving him a skeptical look, but he just rolled his eyes and started loading up the washer next to hers. His load was… interesting, to say the least. It looked like he had broken into a museum, stripped the guards there, and run away with their clothes because guard uniforms were pretty much the only things going into the washer.

 

As he got to the bottom of the basket, though, she spied something staining a couple of sky-blue collared shirts. 

 

Was that… blood?

 

Skinny’s eyes widened as he help up one of the stained shirts. Holy shit that was blood. That was a _lot_ of blood. The red covered up most of the stomach area and had even bled to the back, plus there were spots on the sleeves and smears on the chest.

 

“Dude, what the fuck?!” she yelped, then quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

 

Not appropriate. Not her business.

 

Still…

 

He shot her a glance, but remained silent. After slamming the machine door shut and starting it up, he slumped down to the floor next to her, groaning softly. They sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes, Skinny still staring into his washer at the blood stained clothes.

 

“E _hem._ ”

 

Skinny jumped at the sound of the man clearing his throat, then turned to him with a sheepish grin. He hesitantly smiled back, then stuck out a hand.

 

“The name’s Mike. Don’t worry about the, uh, _stains_ … just an occupational hazard.”

 

Skinny gave him another raised eyebrow, but took his hand anyway. “I’m Skinny.”

 

Mike gave her a once over.

 

“Yes, yes you are.”

 

Now it was Skinny’s turn to roll her eyes. “Har har, very funny. First time I’ve heard that. _So_ original.”

 

Mike cracked another grin, which slowly turned slightly malicious.

 

“Oh well… no _skin_ off my teeth,” he started snickering until he spied the mischievous look in Skinny’s eyes. She smirked at him.

 

“I’m trying the _thin_ k of a response. To do so, I can’t be _narrow-_ minded, but it’s still hard, so I’m having _slight_ issues.” She shrugged. “You’ll just have to be _lean_ ient towards me.”

 

Mike stared blankly at her face, stuck like internet explorer loading a website as he tried to process all of the puns that had been machine-gunned from her mouth. Suddenly, he let out a loud snort, and started laughing so hard that he ended up wheezing on the floor. Skinny couldn’t help but join in until they were both in tears.

 

“H-holy shit,” he finally said, panting a bit. “Did you come up with all of those on the fly? Damn.”

 

Skinny giggled a bit, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “Most kids have stories read to them before bed- my dad told jokes and puns. I’ve had a lot of experience.”

 

Mike sputtered again as he imagined a mini Skinny spouting puns from 3 feet below his head level- but his laughter was cut short by a gasp of pain, and his face contorted as he doubled over.

 

“Mike! Oh God, Mike, what’s wrong?”

 

Skinny jerked up, hands hovering nervously around his shoulders, unsure if she should actually touch him.

 

He grimaced up at her, and tried to choke out a reply. “I’m… _hgh!_ F-fine, I swear…”

 

His hands tightened around his stomach, and he let out another grunt.

 

_That’s… right where the blood stain was…_

 

“Mike…” Skinny reached towards his clenched hands, but he immediately shrank away. She gave him a hard look, making him flinch a bit. He looked down and slowly removed his hands, revealing a much more crimson color than on the shirts in the washing machine. It had coated not only the front of his shirt, but had soaked his bandaged palms as well.

 

Skinny’s breath caught in her throat.

 

“Jesus christ, we need to call an ambu-”

 

“NO!”

 

Skinny started, the force in his voice making her jump.

 

“I-I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll ask too many questions.”

 

Skinny had questions of her own, but silenced them as Mike made another pained noise. The bleeding was getting worse- the stain had blossomed over half the shirt now, and his face looked pale. What could she do? It wasn’t like she could force him to go to the emergency room against his wishes, so…

 

She let out a sigh.

 

“Can you walk?”


	2. Make it rain (bodily fluids)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok ok I know I reeeeeally shouldn't be this excited.
> 
> But.
> 
> MarsRover91 gave me my first comment!!! When I read it I got a mini heart attack.
> 
> As in I froze up and couldn't breathe for two seconds.
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much! If you're reading this, you have no idea how much that means to me. You get a special place in my heart for being numero uno.
> 
> This chapter is for you! ;D
> 
> P.S. for those of you that gave kudos to this work? Hell yeah you guys are on the thank you card.

“What- _ha-_ kind of a job- _mph!-_ would you keep even after making you go through this?!”

 

Skinny was practically dragging Mike up the stairs to her apartment, one of his arms slung around her neck and the other wrapped around his wound. She clumsily opened her door and all but fell into the messy, cramped space that she called home.

 

“Sheesh, buddy, maybe lay off the donuts for a while…”

 

She dumped him on the couch in the middle of her living room with a groan, then tried to rub some feeling back into her tired limbs.

 

“Okay man, you better live through this cause I just hauled your ass up two flights of stairs, and I don’t want it to have been for nothing.”

 

She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at the lump on her sofa, then paused- no response. Not even a halfhearted grin. A frown flitted across her face, and she quickly stepped over to Mike.

 

Mike’s face had taken on an ashy complexion, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, mouth locked in a grimace. Skinny peeled his fingers away from his wound. The blood was still flowing steadily- Mike looked ready to pass out from blood loss.

 

“C’mon, man, stay with me…” Skinny muttered under her breath.

 

Trying to recall all she could from her high-school first-aid classes, she ran to the medicine cabinet in her kitchen and started rifling through bottles of pills and liquids.

 

“Where is it, where is it?”

 

Skinny was pretty much throwing containers over her shoulders at this point.

 

“Aha!”

 

She triumphantly held up a brown bottle of iodine and a bundle of gauze, then hurried back to Mike.

 

“Mike? You listening?”

 

Skinny heard a pained grunt, which she took as a relatively good sign.

 

“Okay, this is going to hurt like _fuck._ Brace yourself.”

 

She took a deep breath, opened the bottle, and poured it onto the wound.

 

“ _RAGHHH!”_

_…_

 

Slow breathing was the only sound that filled the room. Skinny sat slouched in an armchair next to the couch where Mike was snoring softly, turning her thoughts over in her mind.

 

_Construction worker? It looked like something had been raked across his stomach… but with all those uniforms he must be the guard of_ something _. How the hell would he have gotten hurt so badly with a job like that?_

 

_…And why wouldn’t he tell me a thing about it?_

 

A small snuffle came from the couch, and Skinny watched with tired eyes as Mike rolled over into a more comfortable position.

 

_Well. Maybe because we’re complete strangers and I’ve talked to him for a grand total of fifteen minutes._

 

Skinny paused again.

 

_I just let a strange man with questionable origins into my apartment, covered with blood and completely alone, no witnesses around._

 

_Sorry, mom._

 

She was starting to feel a bit drowsy- Mike’s rhythmic breathing provided a soothing backdrop, and she was already tired from all the chaos that had happened that day. Her eyelids drooped, head tipping onto her shoulder-

 

And then Mike bolted upright and fell off the couch.

 

“Ack!” Mike gave a shout as he landed flat on his face, then scrambled up, breathing heavily. Skinny had already stood up, and quickly stepped closer.

 

“Whoa, man, you okay?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Just as her hand came in contact with him, he ripped his arm away. She shrank back as he turned his head and _snarled,_ a feral growl ripping from his throat. His previously blue eyes looked almost… black? Skinny backed away blinking, hands up in a pacifying position as she tried to process what had just happened.

 

Her thoughts raced at a mile a minute. Mike was still on the floor, an angry frown creasing his brow.

 

“Mike… I’m uh, sorry?” she offered.

 

_I mean, I carried you up my stairs and dressed your wound, so I have no clue why you’d be against me touching your fucking shoulder right now, of all things._

 

“You want a little help there?” Skinny put out a hand to help him up, but just held it there. She wasn’t going to risk touching him again. There was a tense silence as she waited for a response, and she just kept staring at those strange, black eyes.

 

Suddenly, Mike blinked a couple times, frown melting away into a look of complete shock. He stared at her upturned palm for a second.

 

“Holy fuck,” he breathed. “I am _so_ sorry.”

 

Skinny helped him to his feet as he stuttered out broken apologies. As he rambled on, she tried to take a peek at his eyes again.

 

Huh. Back to blue.

 

“Uh, it’s okay,” she cut in. “But… could you tell me what happened? I mean, I get that you’re probably a little loopy from all the bleeding, but you fucking growled at me. Like a dog. The hell?” Her voice slowly rose in pitch. Oh well- it was well within her right to be a bit hysterical at the moment.

 

Mike was silent for a moment as he mulled over his response. Finally, he let out a puff of breath.

 

“I’m sure you’ve guessed this already, but my job is a hell-hole.” He chuckled hollowly.” I get… nightmares from it. Sometimes they get so bad, I hallucinate after I wake up.”

 

Skinny’s mouth fell open and she started to speak, but Mike held up a finger.

 

“No, I won’t tell you what I dream about. No, I won’t tell you where I work. I’ve already dragged you into this mess more than I would’ve liked, so my mouth is staying shut.” 

 

Skinny frowned and slowly closed her jaws.

 

“ ‘Sides, I had to sign a non-disclosure contract,” Mike grumbled.

 

Skinny’s frown deepened. A job that gave a man a large gash, nightmares, and forced him to sign a non-disclosure contract? She was burning with curiosity, but held her tongue. Mike eased himself back into the sofa, looking as if all he wanted was to become one with the couch cushions. He glanced at Skinny, who had plunked herself back into the armchair next to him. He cleared his throat.

 

“Thanks, by the way, for patching me up. I feel a lot better. It’s nice to not be dripping all over the place.”

 

Skinny smiled a little at that.

 

“No problem. Better than having a dead body lying on my couch, anyways.”

 

They slipped into a comfortable silence, Skinny picking up a book to read and Mike slowly dozing off again.

 

After a day like that, they both deserved the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way I have literally no medical knowledge. All wound treatment written in this chapter? Bullshit. Please do not just spontaneously pour a bottle of iodine on a stranger's open wound on your couch. Call 911 and let the professionals pour iodine on a stranger's open wound in their ambulance. (No seriously I have no clue what they would actually do. Don't do this at home, kids.)


	3. Everybody Hates Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahaha.
> 
> Haha.
> 
> Ha.
> 
> Guess who's been MIA for... what, 2 weeks? Yikes. Sorry, guys, school has been nuts- but they've given us a Halloween break, so take this chapter as a treat and I'll try to keep any future tricks like this to a minimum. It's a bit longer than the others, I believe.

There was a crick in Skinny’s neck. 

 

She could feel it deep in her spine, but she was nestled too comfortably into her armchair to open her eyes (or do anything, to be honest). It was too bad the sun was really determined to singe her pupils through her eyelids.

 

Wait… sunlight?

 

Skinny sat up with a gasp, shoving her hand in her pocket to look for her phone. Coming up empty, she started to root through the cushions beneath her.

 

“Fucking- what time is it?!”

 

Her fingers brushed against cold metal, and she finally fished a beat up cellphone out of the depths of her armchair. 

 

“2:15 pm! Shit, my shift’s almost over…” She slumped down into her chair again. “No use going to work today, I guess.”

 

She raised her arm again to scroll through her text messages, most of which were from her boss… who had fired her for being late for the umpteenth time. Skinny threw her head back against the chair, the muffled thump not helping her oncoming headache. “Goddammit, that asshole,” she muttered. She stayed slumped in the armchair for what felt like eternity, at least until her stomach growled in protest. Standing up with a groan, she cracked her back (in at least four places) when a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground from her lap.

 

Bending down for closer inspection revealed it to be an old Starbucks receipt, complete with a watery coffee stain in the corner. It had a rather interesting order.

 

_Damn, two Americanos? That’s four fucking shots of espresso. Who needs that much of a morning boost?_

 

She flipped it over and almost laughed out loud as she read the chicken scratch on the back.

 

“ _Hey Skinny! Thanks for patching me up. I let myself out, so don’t worry about me. Maybe you’ll spill something else on your clothes and we’ll see each other again._

 

~~ _Your pal,_ ~~

~~ _Your clothes buddy,_ ~~

_Sincerely, Mike Schmidt”_

 

_He’s such a dork,_ Skinny thought with a snicker.

 

Her stomach decided that it was the perfect moment to remind her of its present foodlessness, so she padded over to the kitchen and fixed herself a slice of toast. She plunked herself down on top of the counter and started to flip through the wanted section of the newspaper, cringing a bit at the choices it displayed.

 

“Amusement park mascot? Nah, too demeaning. Window washer? Too bad I’m afraid of heights. Portable bathroom janitor? Jesus _Christ._ ”

 

Her gaze paused when she reached an ad with a slightly unsettling picture, but a much more promising offer.

 

She quickly dialed the number printed on the page.

 

“Er, hello? I’m calling about the wanted ad in the newspaper?” She grimaced at the uncertainty in her voice.

 

“Ah, hello! Good to see someone has finally answered.” The smooth voice that picked up the phone sounded like it belonged to a man in his early fifties, but slightly… sleazy, like a car salesman. Skinny shook the odd feeling off. _You haven’t even met the guy,_ she told herself. 

 

“You’re hired!” _Wait, what._

 

“Uh, I’m sorry sir, but I think I heard you incorrectly. Could you repeat that?”

 

The voice chuckled a bit. “You’re hired! I expect to see you tomorrow night, at about 11:30. You’ll need a quick tour.”

 

_The hell._ Skinny frowned, suspicion crawling up her back. This guy didn’t even get her name (let alone an interview) before immediately accepting her call. However…

 

She _did_ need the money, and it wasn’t like any of the other job offers were any better…

 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

 

“Good, good!” She could almost see the gleam in his cheesy smile.

 

Just as she was pulling the phone away from her ear, she heard a tinny, “Oh, one more thing.” Placing the device back against her cheek, she raised her eyebrows and waited for the man to continue.

 

“You’ll be working with a partner- actually, just come in ten minutes before your shift, he can show you the ropes!”

 

“…Sir, I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with-“

 

The man cut her off quickly. “Oh, he’s our star employee! He’s been working with us for months. Lasted much longer than the others…” he trailed off.

 

“What was that?” her voice rose slightly.

 

“Aha, nothing you need to worry about. See you tomorrow!” and he hung up with an audible click.

 

Skinny stared at her phone in hollow disbelief. 

 

“What have I gotten myself into?”

 

…

 

Skinny arrived at the pizzeria a bit early for once, at 11:45 pm to be exact. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped through the grungy door. Actually, it wasn’t just the door that was grungy: a fine layer of dust seemed to coat the party room that laid before her, paper hats half illuminated by the low lighting. Goofy posters littered the walls, sporting slogans such as “Let’s party!” and “Celebrate!”, complete with cartoony bears, rabbits, and… ducks? Chickens? Skinny wasn’t sure. She slowly walked around the room, swiping a finger on one of the tables. It came away gray.

 

“What? You did _what?!_ I’ve been doing just fine, I don’t need a- a _helper!_ ”

 

Skinny turned towards the aggravated voice echoing down the hallway, listening as another man answered.

 

“Now, now, after last week’s… _incident…_ I’ve decided that you could use another pair of hands.” Oh, that was the guy she had talked to yesterday. Mr. Grumpy Pants must be her new “partner”. Yippee.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Grumpy growled. “I’ve been here the longest, you said so yourself! I already know how- ”

 

“And that’s why you’re the perfect person to show her around! So just…”

 

Both voices lowered, and Skinny could no longer hear their conversation clearly. Suddenly, she heard rapid footsteps coming down the hall, and she tried to look busy by having a staring contest with one of the animals on the posters.

 

“Ah, you must be the new guy!” A rather large boned man entered the room, smoking a cigar with a large grin plastered on his face. He paused as he took her in. “Er, gal. Anyway, welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria! I am Mr. Fazbear, your new boss, but all the employees here just call me Boss.”

 

He took Skinny’s hand and pumped it up and down as she tried not to flinch.

 

She leaned away as he slung his arm around her shoulders, forcing a grin as he blew cigar smoke into her face,

 

“There should be a uniform for you by tomorrow; the ones we’ve got right now are a bit… dirty.” He glanced down at his watch, then seemed to jump. “Oh, would you look at the time! Down the hall and to your right is the security office. Good luck!”

 

Skinny watched as Boss all but sprinted out the door, disappearing in a whirlwind of smoke and cheaply made suits. She shrugged and started walking down the hall towards the lone light spilling out of an open doorway.

 

Once she reached the office, she took a deep breath and poked her head in.

 

“Look man, I don’t want any trou- ”

 

Two pairs of eyes locked on each other and widened simultaneously. 

 

_“Skinny?!”_

 

_“Mike?!”_

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” they blurted at the same time.

 

Mike’s face paled (Skinny was reminded of the first time they met), and he leapt out of his chair and started shoving her out the door.

 

“WHOA WHOA WHOA, Mike, watch it!” Skinny yelped as she got pushed along. She dug her heels into the floor to no avail, succeeding only in throwing herself further off balance.

 

“Mike. Mike!” She glanced back at her new coworker’s face, and her struggles faltered as she took in his expression of utter determination. A fierce scowl creased his brow, and Skinny realized (after she stopped yelling) that he was mumbling under his breath.

 

_“Of all the people in the world, the_ billions _of people in the world, people I don’t even know. Of_ all people, _why her? WHY HER?”_

 

Skinny halted, trying to think of a response to the worry in Mike’s voice-

 

when a loud “DONGGGG” rang throughout the restaurant.

 

“Fuck,” Mike breathed.


	4. Exposition: The Sequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT?
> 
> WHAT'S THAT?
> 
> AN UPDATE?!?!?
> 
> There's no way Popato got off of her lazy ass and wrote another chapter after practically over HALF A YEAR ABSENCE JESUS CHRIST
> 
> So yeah
> 
> I'm back, friendos 
> 
> And terribly sorry for the long-ass wait I put you through. Thanks to your comments and kudos (and some sibling encouragement), I was able to write the longest chapter yet and this fic is STILL NOWHERE NEAR DONE BUT AT LEAST MY MOTIVATION IS BACK
> 
> Enjoy! Oh also please give me plot bunnies, I need them because this fic is like a train whose conductor is conspicuously absent. AKA me. Who still doesn't have a solid plot in mine. :D

Skinny was pretty sure she got whiplash from the force that Mike pulled her back through the doorway. One long-legged step brought him back to the tablet on his desk that she hadn’t noticed before, while she stood awkwardly in the back, trying to ignore the tense silence that followed.

 

Her eyes wandered around the cramped office, watching a beat-up fan whirl for a while before quietly creeping up behind Mike to peer over his shoulder.

 

Staticky images flickered on the screen, displaying grainy feeds of the halls and rooms hidden in darkness; Mike flicked past them almost too quickly for her to register anything, but she cringed when she caught a faceful of the animatronics cast in shadow, sitting eerily on the stage at the front of the restaurant.

 

Those things looked creepy as _fuck_.

 

Mike suddenly slammed the tablet down, making her jump at the bang.

 

“Why are you here?” He spoke in a low voice, turning with an almost frustrated expression on his face.

 

“Er… I was fired.”

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

“For being late. Again. I, uh, slept in.”

 

Mike brought his hands to his head, massaging his temples. Sighing, he said, “Guess that was my fault. Am I right?”

 

He ignored her protests, instead bringing his attention back to the screen in front of him- then froze for a sec, raising a hand to cut her off.

 

He punched the wall next to her face, and she let out a shriek.

 

Wait, he didn’t hit the wall. He hit a button. She let loose a bit of nervous laughter, then turned to look out of the newly lit window.

 

“FUCKING SHIT-”

 

She leapt back from the grimy purple face staring at her through the doorway, only inches from her nose. On instinct, Skinny hit the button right next to her shoulder, and a large metal door whooshed down, forming a thick barrier between her body and the hulking monstrosity in the hall. She backed away, chest heaving, as Mike gave her a sideways glance.

 

“Hm. Fast reflexes. That’ll be useful.”

 

“W-what was that?!”

 

“That,” he replied, poking the light button again to reveal a long-eared shadow flickering on the wall, “was Bonnie the Bitch.”

 

Skinny managed a snort at the nickname, despite the cold sweat breaking out on her skin. Mike continued, “This asshole is the first guy to come out every night, and is only one of the four who try to kill me each shift.

That’s Bonnie there behind the door, Chica the Chicken (or duck, I could never tell) on the other side, Foxy the Fox down the hall, and Freddy fucking Fazbear himself up on the stage,” he rattled off. Skinny watched with wide eyes as he picked up the tablet to show her flashes of the rooms around the restaurant.

 

 _Kinda like the grand tour_ , Skinny thought only mildly hysterically.

 

“Right now they’re playing nice- early in the week, not as active, all that shit. _But_ ,” and Skinny shivered at the venom in his voice, “never let your guard down. _NEVER_.”

 

He pinned her with a piercing glare, but relaxed slightly at her serious expression. He turned back to the window, lighting up the hallway and groaning at the sight of the shadow still splayed against the wall.

 

“COME ON, YOU FUCKER! IT’S NIGHT TWO, STOP CAMPING AT THE DOOR!”

 

There was a beat of silence- and then Skinny’s eyebrows shot up as a plasticky face leaned over into view of the window, bearing what could only be described as an “are you kidding me?” expression. Mike simply answered with an arm pointing down the hallway.

 

Bonnie’s ears twitched, and with a final shrug of his shoulders, he slunk away into the shadows.

 

“Yeah that’s right, follow your own rules, you absolute _dick_ ,” Mike muttered, crossing over to the window to make sure that the rabbit was well and truly gone before slapping the door button again. He raised the screen still clenched in his hand- 84% glowed in white pixels in the bottom corner.

 

“Godammit,” he groaned with a long drag of his hand over his face. Skinny moved over to allow him to slump back in the swivel chair, then hopped up on the decaying desk.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“We’re chewing through power like nobody’s business.”

 

“...Power?”

 

Mike’s exasperation could reach no end.

 

“The Boss cuts off our power at night, the fucking cheapass. We’re left with whatever the generator stored up during the day. Everything takes power- the fan, the cameras, this tablet, even the doors for some fucked up security policy. Dunno how privy he is to the fact that he’s giving us a ticking time bomb each night to pinch a few pennies, but it’s one of the worst things about this place.

The lights go out? We’re dead. Freddy hauls his fuzzy ass up here and we’re screwed, unless we’ve got less than sixty seconds to six. I’ve had a few close calls like that,” he finished softly, one hand subconsciously trailing over his stomach wound.

 

Skinny listened with a creased brow, a soft intake of breath as she made the connection.

 

“Mike… what did they do to you?” she hesitatingly asked.

 

He let out a chuckle that sounded two times too empty.

 

“Oh, you know, the usual; drag me down the hallway kicking and screaming, try to stuff me in a metal suit designed to rebirth me as a swiss-cheese corpse, leave me there to rot when I mysteriously “quit my job” so that someone else can clean up the mess “I’ve” made; the list goes on and on,” he drawled.

 

“Jesus.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

A pregnant pause filled the office as Mike resumed camera duty, Skinny still perched on the desk and swinging her legs.

 

“Wait, did you say the fan sucks power, too?”

 

“Yep. Whyd’ya ask?”

 

“Can’t we just… unplug it?”

 

Mike smirked. “Be my guest.”

 

She bent in half backwards over the desk.

 

Mike’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he witnessed this feat of acrobatics- Skinny however, popped right back up with an irritated scowl on her face.

 

“You could’ve just _told_ me the plug had melted to the outlet.”

 

“And _you_ could’ve told me you had the flexibility of a noodle!! What the shit?!”

 

Skinny ducked her head, one hand coming up to scratch her neck.

 

“I can pretty much only do it forwards and backwards, but yeah, my spine’s kinda bendy,” she grinned.

 

“I’ll say,” he replied with a laugh.

 

A queer look stole over Skinny’s face. Mike watched as the odd expression cemented and stuck.

 

“...You okay there?”

 

She took a deep breath.

 

“Killer Chuck E. Cheese bots.”

 

Mike stared at her with a slightly concerned expression. “Uh, I guess.”

 

“You work. With killer Chuck E. Cheese bots. Intent on assimilating you into their ranks. By killing you.”

 

He slowly raised an eyebrow. “Yup, we just went through that.”

 

Her face suddenly drained of color. “And now _I_ work with killer Chuck E. Cheese bots,” she breathed, staring off into space.

 

“...You are not taking this well as I thought you were originally.”

 

“I think I need to lie down for a bit,” she said as she shakily climbed off of the desk, taking only a wobbly few steps before landing on her knees. Mike sighed, setting the tablet down and supporting her back as he gave her his hat. She looked at him in confusion.

 

“It’s not a pillow, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got. Take a break- I know this is a shit ton to take in at once.” He offered a small grin, which she returned as best she could.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it. Holler if you need me,” he said, returning to his post at the desk.

 

Skinny watched his retreating back, giving the night guard’s hat a skeptical glance before setting it down on the ground and laying her head upon it. As she closed her eyes, she sent a prayer out to whoever was up there to cut her some slack for just one night.

 


	5. Make New Friends, but Keep the Old Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MMMM SHIT'S GETTIN' REAL
> 
>  
> 
> this is my favorite chapter so far

_Click_

_Click click click click-_

  
“FUCK!”

  
The sound of pure, unadulterated rage is one heck of a wake up call. Sitting up with a groan, Skinny tried to rub the stiffness out of her neck. The floor was not very accommodating. Mike was pacing nervously between the desk and the right-hand door, hands clenched in fists and eyes never leaving the darkened doorway.

  
“Okay. Okay, we can do this. Skinny!” He barked, face still turned towards the right hall. She yelped as he roughly yanked her up by the back of the shirt with a strength she wasn’t expecting, half due to the fact that her awareness was firmly muzzled by drowsiness. “Face that door. DO NOT look away, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.”

  
“Mike, what’s going on?” She asked, voice still rough from the brief nap.

  
“Are you watching it? Good. Chica has disabled our door and lights, but she won’t move in here for a bit while she’s being watched- hopefully it’ll buy us some time. God, I hope this isn’t breaking their rules,” he hissed.

  
“Their rules?” She called back to him, still facing straight ahead. “Mike?”

  
He had already gone back to the tablet, occasionally glancing up at the doorway and swearing under his breath. She let out a huff of breath in mild irritation. Skinny stared deep into the darkness, but couldn’t make anything out; small swirls of shadow played at the edges of her vision, the illusion of movement appearing in the corners of her eyes the longer she kept staring. She squinted, trying to see something, anything-

  
A high-pitched giggle rang from the darkness, making Skinny jolt backwards and land on her butt.

  
_“Mikeeeeey~”_ called a distinctly feminine voice, yet it carried the rasp and sputter of a worn out speaker with it, crackling through the syllables like white noise. _“You’re not playing fairly!”_

  
“Ah, shit,” he swore, fumbling for a drawer underneath the desk. He yanked it open with a bang.

  
“Mike! What the fuck’s going on?” Skinny’s eyes were now fully alert and locked on the doorway, doing all she could in the moment (which didn’t seem like nearly enough). Suddenly, the night guard appeared at her side.

  
“Hold this,” he said. A crowbar dropped into her lap.

  
She finally looked up, and gasped. Mike’s eyes were flickering like a TV channel with bad reception, alternating between black and white as he glared into the pitch black, a worn wooden baseball bat clenched between his hands. A malicious grin suddenly split his face, looking _wrong_ on it, like it wasn’t entirely him pulling the strings.

  
_“Come at me, bitch,”_ he snarled, but his voice was oddly distorted. _“If I’m gonna break one rule, might as well break ‘em all and you at the same time.”_

  
Chica giggled. _“Aw Mikey, I’m just trying to make sure there aren’t any **chea-ea-ters** here. After all, no one likes a bad **sp-sp-sport.** ”_

  
Skinny sucked in a breath as the animatronic stepped into the light, servos whining softly with a purr that should not have been possible for such a dilapidated piece of metal. Her eyes were no longer the natural white that was shown on the posters taped to the walls- instead, they were pitch black, a white pupil glowing in each one. Garish yellow fur clung oddly to her frame, the fuzz behaving more like wet dog fur than the soft material it originally started as- and then the smell hit. Skinny gagged from the wave of decay that assaulted her senses.

  
_Why the fuck is this thing considered kid friendly? It looks and smells like the Grim Reaper’s personal outhouse._

  
Another click of motors was heard as Chica tilted her head, eye lights focusing on the second human in the room, almost like she had heard Skinny’s insulting thoughts. A grating _scraaape_ shuddered out as the chicken turned to look at Mike again.

  
_“Oh, come on Mikey. You know this isn’t a two player game, and she isn’t even a proper night guard. What were you thinking? This little toy-”_

  
Chica sprang forward with inhuman speed, snatching Skinny’s arm. A sickening crack rang out, accompanied by the human’s cry as she was hauled up by the robot. _“-is hardly worth playing with anyway! Look how easy she is to break.”_

  
“NO!” Mike shouted, his eyes flickering clear for a moment. He started forward.

  
_“Ah ah ah!”_ Chica tsked. Mike froze as the animatronic threateningly squeezed Skinny’s arm, pulling a whimper from the dangling girl. Her smile was full of double-rowed teeth, seeing that she finally had an edge on the night guard. _“Now, why don’t you just come with me? I’ll let her go after we get you **s-suited up** , as long as you **play-ay**  nice.”_

  
Mike visibly trembled, teeth locked in a grimace. His eyes, still bouncing between colors, landed on Skinny’s pained expression. She caught his gaze; shook her head slightly; grit her teeth and looked back down. Considering this, Mike sighed. He squeezed his eyelids shut, and when they opened, they were normal. The bat clattered to the floor.

  
Skinny’s eyes widened. “Mike, don’t!” she gasped. “We’ll find another way, you can’t- AGH!”

  
Her captor had roughly shaken her arm, causing a pale complexion to pass across her face. She fell silent, Mike wincing at the sight.

  
“Come on, I already agreed. Just- just stop hurting her,” he whispered.

  
Chica should have been a wolf, not a chicken, with the smile she was wearing. She let go of Skinny’s arm, the girl collapsing in a heap on the floor from the sudden drop. The bird took another step towards Mike, hand landing on his shoulder in what could almost pass for a comforting way, if it weren't for the too-tight menace that was put into the squeeze.

  
_“Great! I’m so glad we could come to an agree-ee-ee-ee-”_

  
An ear-rending screech split the air, sparks flying out of Chica’s head. Mike’s hands flew up to cover his ears as the sound of metal shrieking and servos locking exploded around him, smoke pouring out of the back of the stuttering animatronic. With a loud _chunk_ , her head flopped to one side, arms falling limply in front of her. The night guard coughed, waving his hands around in an effort to clear the acrid black gas from the air and his stinging eyes. The sound of a body hitting the floor, however, made him look down.

  
Skinny was on one knee beside the now inert robot, one hand wrapped tightly around her broken arm, which hung at an awkward angle. Smoke continued to billow from a crack where a crowbar had been forcefully shoved between the neck and head of the yellow bird, then pulled violently down.

  
For a moment, they just stared at each other.

  
“...Boss is gonna kill us.”

  
Mike let out a relieved chuckle, and Skinny was able to crack a grin despite her pain. He helped her to her feet just as the 6:00 am alarm rang out, a chorus of children screaming out over tinny speakers accompanied by ringing bells.

  
“The kids were one of our coworker’s idea of a joke,” Mike remarked. “To try to ‘lighten the mood’, I guess.” They gingerly stepped around Chica, both uncomfortable with being so close to the machine despite her obvious incapacitation. He motioned for them to take a turn to the supply closet to grab a first aid kit.

  
Skinny looked at him in surprise.

  
“There are other people that work here?”

  
“Oh yeah, I forgot to say. We have four other guys that come in sometimes, but it’s usually just me. They only pop up to fill in if I'm sick or something, and I think most of them work at other locations. It’s for the best; the bots get pretty pissy when there are other people around.”

  
“No kidding.”

  
A comfortable silence fell over the two as Mike bandaged up her arm, forming a makeshift sling.

  
“You’re pretty quick at that.”

  
He glanced up at her. “I should hope so. Had a lot of practice.” Reaching for one of the high shelves, he brought down a small bottle and dumped a couple of pills into his palm. “Here. For the pain.”

  
She swallowed them down dry, grimacing at the chalky texture. Her throat was _parched_. She stuck her good hand in her pocket, pulling out a ten dollar bill and holding it up.

  
“Coffee?”


	6. Author's Note

Hey guys! I know this work hasn't been getting the love it deserves, but my school starts very early and I've been super busy. However, I have an ask blog on Tumblr!

 

[@ask-a-schmidty-nightguard](https://ask-a-schmidty-nightguard.tumblr.com)

 

You can throw an ask at Mike there, and if you guys would like (please tell me if you do), I might even open asks for Skinny. This story HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED. I am still working on it, but updates will be slow. Thank you so much for the support!

 

-Popato 

 

 


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